just a typical saturday.

How did atypical become typical? I've been here just over three months now, and so much has become normal that I have lost some of my wonder and excitement over the things that were so fascinating at first. Maybe some of that is good--it means I'm not just on vacation, I'm not just traveling through--I actually live here. Still, I don't want to forget what makes living in Taiwan special. Here's what I did today. Normal? You decide!

I taught for three hours this morning. I have a new class on Saturdays of intelligent and talkative jr. high-school-age students. One of their new words was "cork," so I drew a picture first of a wine bottle and explained that a cork is what you put in the top part of the bottle to keep the air out--to get them to guess the meaning without using Chinese. Later, I asked them where corks come from. A boy in the back row called out, "from alcohol!" It's fun to have some older students--while the teeny-weeny ones are cute, it's harder to get to know them because they can't say much in English. A typical encounter goes like this:

Elly: Hi, Sammy, how are you?
Sammy: I'mfinethankyouandyou? (this auto-pilot answer, which the kids are taught on Day 1 of their English education has somehow become one word, exhaled as quickly as possible in order to bypass a potentially nerve-wracking convo with their foreign teacher. At this point, the child giggles and scurries away)

So I think I'll enjoy getting to see some personalities shine through, with older kids who are more confident with their English and less shy.

After classes, my friend Helen and I ride on her scooter to the Ikea in the next suburb--about 20 minutes away. At every stop light we are stared at unabashedly, our blonde hair flying in wild ponytails out from under our helmets. Other scooters inch closer and closer while waiting for the light, curious about what kind of heads are beneath the visored helmets, sprouting mysterious yellow locks. One man and his wife are obviously conferring about our nationality as they eye us from three scooters away. I happen to make eye contact and the man calls out, "FRANCE?" We shake our helmets no. "AMERICA?" I give him a thumbs-up and the light turns green. We lose sight of them in the bob-and-weave of traffic, but later they zip by us again, honking their horn and waving enthusiastically.

At Ikea, I pick out some stuff for my new room (I moved to the 6th floor dorm--it's fabulous compared to my 4th floor dwelling!). I'll post some pictures after it's cleaned up a bit. We had a fabulous Ikea-lunch--smoked salmon, bread and jam, a spinach-sprout-wrap, salad, amazing coffee. It took us about ten minutes to situate all our loot on the scooter but we managed. We drove back to Jhongli under a broiling sun, a huge bag of pillows stuffed between us. The air was humid and thick with the smell of incense--as this month is the Spirit's Holiday, everywhere you look there are tables laid out with fruit, tea, candles, cookies, and other offerings to appease the wandering ghosts and keep them out of mischief. I love how the ancient and modern blend effortlessly here--Ikea and Starbuck's lined up next to the ghost-offering-tables... an old man walking by a Lexus dealership wearing his hand-woven banana-leaf sun-hat, just as though he were walking through a rice field 500 years ago.

When we got home, I did some cleaning. There's a storage room on my new floor that I decided will be my yoga-room. It has honey-colored wood floors and Japanese-style sliding screen doors. I had to wash the floor and shove some suitcases and boxes to the corners, but it will work. It's important to be in a somewhat peaceful and inspiring space when you practice yoga. I lit some candles and lemongrass oil and opened the window. Dusk fell as I sweat through my practice, and outside a baby wailed, fireworks exploded (for the ghost's holiday, I think--but they don't seem to need much of a reason here!), and the garbage truck sang its loud, melancholy chorus as it turtle-crawled through the streets, alerting people to run outside with their trash bags and toss them into the truck (it's like an ice-cream truck, only... not).

After yoga, I watched some of the Olympics (commentary in Chinese! Someone tell me what I'm missing, please?) and wandered down the street to buy some vegetables, tofu, and a power strip. I sauteed the tofu in Japanese dressing and ate it with a tomato. Soon I'll talk to my mom on Skype, read "The Alchemist," and fall asleep in my new comfy-cute Ikea bedding.

It was a good day, but a normal day.

Normal is good.